Open Water
by 5Mississippis
Summary: Leonard, lost at sea.


Open Water

_Jump!_

His mind screamed the command just as he connected the last fastener on his life jacket.

But in the millisecond it had taken his mind to issue the order and then have his body actually do it, the roiling sea had changed once again. The water level dropped as the wave gathered monstrous height, and now the plummet into the sea from the flailing ship was at least thirty feet, not five.

Inadvertently gasping in shock from the height of the free fall, he was unable to get a deep enough breath when he hit the water.

It was like hitting concrete.

The huge wave crashed over him and he was submerged.

Deep under, the roar of the sea was muted. Helpless in the agitated water, he whirled about like a leaf in the wind. The area was alight and glowing from the faltering ship. Suspended in the water, he watched in horror as the floundering research vessel tipped and was pulled below the surface. As it started its slow fall to the bottom of the sea, the comforting lights sputtered until they went out, turning the world black.

Silvery bubbles escaped from his throat and into the dark icy water. Desperate for air, scrabbling to the surface against the push and the weight of the waves, he didn't yet realize that the fall had broken both his legs and his pelvis.

Gasping, he finally broke the surface only to have another torrent of water push him back under.

The sea was furious, bucking, rearing, and heaving like a wild animal. Surviving one wave, there was another right behind it. Bobbing helplessly in the blackness, unable to tell sea from sky, he couldn't see anything anyway so it didn't really matter that his glasses were lost in the fall. The only thing he could do was wait for the next wave and the subsequent oncoming life-threatening peril.

The wind was enraged this night, screaming and howling in madness. However, unlike the wind, he noticed that the gathering menace of the wave was silent. But the sea had a voice and it would snarl just as the foaming white cap would form on the crest of the horrifically tall wave. Just able to make to make out the glint of the white cap, it gave him precious seconds to gasp in a lungful of air before it crashed over him and sent him spiraling back under.

It became an easily recognizable pattern.

Surface.

Gasp for air.

Feel for the dip of the water as the wave gathers.

Watch for the white cap and hear the snarl.

Take in a deep lungful of air before being thrown under.

Fight your way to the surface.

Repeat.

_Focus._

_Just focus on the pattern._

_Don't think._

_Don't think._

_Don't think about Penny._

_Don't think about the love given that was finally returned._

_Don't think about the life you left behind._

_Don't think about your life hanging by a thread._

_Don't think about the fates mercilessly toying with you before they snip the string._

_If you think, you will despair. And if you despair, you will die._

_Just focus._

_Focus on the pattern._

_Don't think._

_Don't think._

_Don't think._

_Focus._

And so it went throughout that long night, being endlessly tossed about then pushed under, surface, gasp for air, struggle to stay afloat, and be ready once again with as much air as your impaired lungs can capture before you are forced under.

…_.._

The sun had started its rise over the North Sea and the sky lightened, creating trails of pink, blue and orange. Jagged waves could be seen spiking along the line of the horizon.

Exhausted, barely conscious he could tell that there was a change. The waters were still rough but the breakers that had crashed over him all night were absent. He couldn't really remember when they had stopped, but for now, he was just thankful that they had. The sea had settled and he was lifted up and rocked by the waves.

It was comfortable. It was lulling.

Floating.

Floating.

Floating.

He was just floating peaceably, with his head bobbing above the water and his arms spread out from his sides. Occasionally, a larger, rough wave would splash over his head and face and he would sputter awake.

But there was a tiny difference to the water and it was puzzling. Perplexed, his hazy mind struggled to register the significance.

Guttural caws from rowdy seagulls were all around him. The water from under his left hand was gone and it rested on something solid above the water. His hand and part of his sleeve was dry. He flexed his fingers and whatever was next to him, bobbed gently in the water under the weight of his arm.

There was a new sensation too.

There was a bubbling sensation along with frantic movement, churning the noisy water that surrounded him. It was a tickling feeling that enveloped him up to his neck.

He opened his eyes.

In the calm skies overhead, hundreds of seagulls flew overhead, screeching and cawing as they dive-bombed the waters all around him.

He turned his head to see what his arm was currently resting on.

The purple bloated corpse nestled beside him, his arm resting across the victim's back as if in companionship. The movement in the water was the feeding frenzy of the fish as they tore at the dead flesh.

He screamed.

Reflexively, he pushed the corpse away from him in panic as he tried to desperately swim away in the opposite direction. This was when he became aware of the sharp pain in his hips and legs. Their motion limited by the pain, they were useless. He had to rely on his arms to pull himself away from the appalling scene.

Struggling as he awkwardly moved in the water, he gasped in shock and horror. Slowly, he was able to move away from the corpse and the circle of fish.

After the initial jolt, he felt sickened as he came to realize that this was someone he knew.

Someone he had come to know in the past few months.

This was someone he ate meals with, shared stories with.

This was someone he had listened to when they talked about their friends and families.

Someone he considered a friend.

With only a mere second of reflection, he knew what he had to do.

Steeling himself, he turned and he slowly made his way back in the direction of the corpse. From the rise and fall of the waves, and the presence of the gulls, it was easy to spot as it floated on the surface.

Making his way back through the school of fish, he saw that that victim was face down. Hopefully, his wallet was in his back pocket of his pants. If he made it out, at least this simple possession could be returned to the man's family.

Grabbing the man by the belt, he steadied the victim. He could see the worn outline created by the wallet in the material of the right back pocket. After carefully removing the billfold, he opened it. Inside, he found various laminated identification cards. Removing one, he squinted at the photo of a smiling young man. He knew him; the card had only verified it. Theo Barrineau, the French mechanic from Rouen who worked in the engine room. He was working on the research vessel for the travel opportunities and the money. He had wanted to open up a motorcycle shop.

The wallet was placed in the left back pocket of his own dungarees.

He then placed his hand on the man's back. "Theo, I'm so sorry that it ended this way. May you Rest in Peace. And if by some miracle I manage to get out of this, I'll see that your wallet is returned to your family. But don't walk too fast. I have a feeling I'll be right behind you."

After, he checked to see if his own wallet still in his right back pocket.

It was.

_Maybe they will use it to identify my corpse._

…_.._

The day dragged on and all notion of time was lost as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Trying to stay warm and catch as much feeble sunlight as possible, he lifted his legs and torso and floated on his back.

For some reason, one of the seagulls seemed to be fascinated by him and floated close beside him as they were gently rocked by the waves. The bird was silent, never squawking in alarm at him as if he were an intruder, but just stared at him intently, like a scientist would study a new species of insect.

He began to get uncomfortable under the bird's keen, and he hated to suspect this, superior gaze. But in truth, the bird was in his element and he, unfortunately, was not. The seagull was handling this situation rather nicely; he was not.

"I'd like to see you try to operate a helium-neon laser," he said irritably to the animal, trying to draw level.

The bird just looked at him with a judgmental, non-blinking stare.

"Yeah. You're right. I get it. Seagull – 2; Leonard – 0. Listen. You've been a good friend. Do me a favor. Help me pick a memory."

The seagull's black beady eyes blinked.

"It constantly amazes me how you are never wrong. You're absolutely right. That is a good one."

…..

There was a heartbreaking time when he could hear someone, lost like him, in the distance pleading for help. He yelled back, trying to gauge their direction and distance, as he tried to move towards them. But his calls were not returned and he could only listen as the frantic cries from far away eventually turned to silence.

…..

The seagull left him.

…..

Last night, the activity of fighting the waves, had kept his body temperature up. But this morning, the pale sun did little to warm the icy water. Now the sun had passed its zenith and began its descent across the sky, what little body warmth he had was leeching from him as hypothermia began to set in.

His teeth began to chatter and his body shook with violent tremors. In the throes of the spasms, he involuntarily curled into the fetal position as his dying body desperately tried to create warmth.

In the paradox of hypothermia, as his body temperature dropped dangerously low, he felt hot.

So very hot.

He fanned the water, splashing it on his face and chest, desperately trying to cool himself.

It had little effect; he was burning up.

In confusion and desperation, he began to undress. Unbuttoning his dungarees, he let them slide down his hips. The blue jeans, his wallet, and the one he had retrieved from the dead mechanic spiraled down in lazy circles to the bottom of the sea.

As his hand moved up and he started to unclip the life jacket from around his chest, he heard Penny yell at him.

_He blinked and was surprised to find himself sitting in his chair in the living room. Penny was looking at him, furious._

"_Leonard! I swear to God! If you remove that life jacket, you will never see me again!"_

"_What? Why? I'm in the living room! I'm on terra firma! I don't need a life jacket!" _

"_Yes. You. Do."_

"_No, I don't! This is ridiculous! _

"_Don't argue with me!"_

"_You're not wearing one!"_

"_I don't need to."_

"_Well, it's hot and I don't need to either."_

_Penny stood before him, angrily shaking a finger at him. "Leonard! Listen up and listen close. This is a promise and not a threat. If you take it off, it will be the end of us. I'm telling you for the last time, leave the goddamn life jacket on!"_

He was jolted awake. Looking around, unsure of what was real, he was crushed to find he was still floating in the sea, not back at his apartment with Penny.

The sun was low in the sky. Night was coming and he knew he'd never survive another.

OK.

This was it.

The end of his life.

He had dared to hope but he now knew no one would be coming. Even the seagull left.

He was ready to let go.

_Penny. I tried. Please forgive me. _

He composed himself and prepared for death.

In his periods of consciousness through the day, he had readied himself for this and selected the treasured memory, the one that the seagull helped him choose, which he would hold in heart as death took him.

In a life that was measured by emotional neglect and longing, he chose a sparkling memory from those few that he had. A singular moment in time when felt, just once, that he truly had everything he had ever wished for: to be wanted and loved.

Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to death.

And remembered.

…..

He never heard the helicopters circling overhead, he never saw his rescuer drop down on a longline harness, he didn't know that he was pulled from the sea.

…..

Barely conscious, shaking with hypothermia, and mumbling incoherently, Leonard was pulled on board the Air/Sea Rescue helicopter out of Rotterdam.

After carefully laying him on a cot, they began to work quickly, removing the life jacket and what remained of the wet clothes. They placed him on oxygen and covered him with warmed blankets. Two paramedics provided the medical care while the third, the radioman, contacted their base in Rotterdam and relayed the information.

"White male, mid-thirties, approximately 5'5", 72 kilograms, dark brown curly hair," the radioman said as one of the medics opened one of Leonard's closed eyes and his pupils rolled into view, "brown eyes." The paramedic took his knuckle and pressed down hard and rubbed it against Leonard's sternum.

Leonard groaned.

"Currently responding only to painful stimuli."

Using his stethoscope, the paramedic placed the bell diaphragm against Leonard's murmuring lips trying to hear what he was saying.

"I can't make out what he's saying but it sounds like an American accent."

"An American accent," the radioman repeated to the base in Rotterdam. "OK. Thank you … they're going to contact the response team Cambridge and to let them know we have a recovery and send the description. Hopefully, they'll get him identified. In the meantime, they want us to forward photos."

The paramedic slid the stethoscope around Leonard's chest while the radioman took pictures of his face with a digital camera.

"Wheezing throughout, no rhonchi, no crackles." Experienced hands moved over his body, lifting the blankets as he went, feeling for fractures. "No displacement noted in the clavicles or arms, good range of motion noted." The questing hands moved down his chest. "Ribs feel intact, no movement felt, no subcutaneous emphysema noted, abdomen soft, legs equal length and no internal or external rotation, looks like no hip fractures."

All this time, Leonard lay unmoving and quiet with all their examinations and ministrations. When they got to his legs however, Leonard moaned and his body arched at the touch.

"I can feel bones grating in the legs, feels like a fractured tibia. Bilaterally. Let's get them into an inflatable cast."

Wrapped in a pile of blankets, the casts were applied and just as the intravenous was started, the radio beeped an incoming message.

The radioman answered the call and shared the news. "Well, we have an ID. This is Dr. Leonard Hofstadter, he's physicist from California. They are forwarding his medical history to us now. Cambridge wants to know how he's doing."

"Right now just tell them exposure, hypothermia, and fractured tibias. It's all very treatable. Barring them finding something else major at the hospital or him taking a turn for the worse, he should be fine."

…..

The vicious storm that swept across the North Sea was the worst in nearly sixty years. Vessels at all points across the sea were lost and a massive multinational search and rescue effort was underway.

The story dominated the news.

Since they had heard, they all sat quietly huddled in apartment 4A, sometimes crying, sometimes just holding one another, or sometimes just staring blankly ahead trying to figure out how to deal with the situation, how to deal with this pain.

It was now going on sixteen hours since the research ship went down. And although no one was going to admit it, hope was fading rapidly in every heart. No one dared to leave, for when the news came, each one would need the comfort and companionship of their friends.

The phone rang at 9AM.

By agreement, all calls were put on speaker so they would all hear the news together, holding tightly on to each another, for support, as one.

The caller had an English accent.

"Dr. Cooper! I have some wonderful news! Dr. Hofstadter is alive and has been rescued! He is on his way to hospital …"

There was a simultaneous collective sharp intake of breath from all the listeners in Pasadena. Whatever the caller was going to say next was drowned out by the cries and screaming of heart swelling joy and jumping that was so loud, the caller could swear it made his phone was vibrate over 5,000 miles away. The representative from Cambridge could swear that among the joyous din that lasted several minutes, he heard Dr. Cooper yell, 'Thank you, Jesus! As my mother would say.'

…..

_Penny held his hand tightly as she pulled him along the beach, her sandals swinging in her free hand, kicking up the sand as she went. Looking back at him as she dragged him along, her green eyes sparkled mischievously. As always, she looked absolutely beautiful tonight. Blonde hair hung loose about her shoulders, her skin-kissed golden skin peeping out from underneath the light blue camisole top and white gauzy skirt that she wore._

_The sun was setting over the beach sending streaks of orange, purple, and pink across the sky. _

_The dinner that they had in the restaurant on the bluffs overlooking the ocean was delicious and Leonard had consumed enough wine that, even though he had thought about it, he really didn't care if there was medical waste on the shore._

"_Penny … what are we doing here?"_

"_We are going to have sex in the ocean."_

"_What? Not again!" Leonard made his voice a deliberate, high- pitched nasal whine._

_Penny had led them to a secluded cove, laughing at his feigned resistance._

_Reaching up under her skirt, she pulled her panties off. Stretching the elastic band over the tip of her finger, she held her hand like a gun and released the band, sending her panties flying into the Pacific. _

"_You just made some fish and probably a seagull or two very happy."_

"_How about you?" She asked him, suddenly serious. "Do I make you happy?"_

"_More than you will ever know," he said as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, tasting the burnt sugar of the crème brulee she had for dessert. _

_As always between them, words were unnecessary. Need became want and want became desire. _

_They fell into the ocean, the water was warm around their legs and the sand was warm under his back. Penny straddled his hips, setting the pace. _

_After, he reached up and putting his arms under her shirt, he touched her skin and pulled her down to him._

_The world around them was turning the color of blue topaz as stars began to light the sky. _

"_I love you, Leonard."_

"_I love you, my sweet and wonderful Penny."_

As the rescue helicopter landed in Rotterdam, Leonard smiled in his sleep.

….. The End …..

_A/N: Was the story harrowing? I tried to make it harrowing. Or was it just goofy? I can never tell. Please let me know! Any comments, criticisms, critiques, questions, reviews will all be gratefully accepted. _


End file.
